The Blackwood estate had always been known for its pristine order—the sharp discipline of its guards, the precision of its stewards, the polish of its marble halls. But to Adrian, riding through its grand gates again felt hollow.
He hadn't returned to take up residence. His stay would be brief, calculated. Enough to maintain appearances, to ensure his duties were noted, and most importantly—to divert suspicion from his true destination.
Lila.
He barely rested the night of his return. The next morning, he dispatched a formal letter to the Hart estate under the guise of a "territorial inspection" and a desire to assist Lord Hart in finalizing the restructuring of their shared trade routes—an entirely plausible excuse. He knew it would pass without raising too many eyebrows, especially among court informants who tracked his movements.
But he had no interest in maps or trade deals.
He needed to see her with his own eyes. To know she was still standing. Still fighting.
It was a clear morning when Adrian arrived at the Hart estate.
The manor was modest in comparison to the grand estates of central nobles, but it bore signs of recent care. The garden, once overgrown, was trimmed neatly. Repairs had begun on the west wing's collapsed roof. There was a kind of persistent resilience in the air—something Lila had clearly instilled.
A footman led him inside. Before long, Lord Hart appeared, his usual melancholy replaced by cautious surprise.
"Lord Blackwood," he said with a stiff bow.
"We weren't expecting you so soon."
Adrian offered a warm smile, allowing his tone to remain courteous but firm. "I received word about some of the merchant delays. I thought it prudent to assist in resolving them quickly—especially given the rumors circulating."
Lord Hart's eyes darkened at that.
"So, you've heard."
"It's been echoing through every corridor of court."
The older man gestured for Adrian to follow him into his study. Once the doors shut behind them, all pretense dropped.
"She's stronger than I imagined," Lord Hart admitted quietly, pouring two glasses of brandy. "But I worry. She doesn't complain, but the pressure is mounting. And these whispers… they're becoming more cruel."
Adrian took a slow sip of the brandy. "They're doing it deliberately. Not just to humiliate her but to discredit her so completely that no merchant, noble, or even servant would want to associate with her."
"Because of me," Lord Hart said heavily.
"Because of me," Adrian corrected, voice sharper than intended. "I should have known Evelyne wouldn't stop with trade sabotage. I walked away thinking she was safe. That was a mistake I won't repeat."
There was silence between them for a moment, then Lord Hart nodded grimly. "So. What do we do?"
Adrian leaned forward. "We fight this with the same weapon she's using—reputation. We give the court a new story. A distraction that reframes our connection as purely political. They won't care if it's true—as long as it's convincing."
Lord Hart's brow furrowed. "And what would that look like?"
Adrian tilted his head thoughtfully. "We say I'm here under official duty—to oversee a joint recovery initiative for the provinces. That our trade alliance is being expanded. That we're collaborating on economic reform and rebuilding the estate as a symbol of restored noble loyalty to the Crown."
Lord Hart's eyes slowly lit with cautious understanding. "Turn it into a symbol. Make it public. If they talk about Lila now, they'll be praising her… or risk insulting the Crown's chosen allies."
Adrian nodded. "And I'll stay here for a time. It lends credibility. If anyone asks, I'm simply ensuring the logistics align properly before I report back to the capital."
Lord Hart gave a tired chuckle. "You make scheming sound like an act of diplomacy."
"With the court, it's the same thing."
Adrian saw Lila for the first time that evening, in the estate gardens. She was kneeling beside a row of sprouting herbs, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair pinned back haphazardly. Dirt dusted her hands, and she was speaking softly to a young girl—one of the servant's children—who held a watering can almost too big for her.
He didn't interrupt.
For a moment, he simply watched.
There she was—resilient and bright, like a flame that refused to go out. And something inside him twisted with quiet guilt that he'd left at all.
When the child scampered off, Lila finally noticed him.
"You're back," she said, rising to her feet. Her voice was calm, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I couldn't stay away," Adrian said softly. "Not when I heard what was happening."
Lila brushed her hands clean with a cloth tucked at her waist. "I've managed. Barely. But I've managed."
"You shouldn't have had to manage alone."
Her lips curved into a small smile. "You forget—I'm the 'extra' in someone else's story. No one expects me to win."
Adrian stepped closer. "That's exactly why you will."
She laughed under her breath, the sound tinged with both amusement and weariness.
"So what's your excuse for suddenly showing up? You wouldn't risk being seen here unless you had a reason."
"I do," he said with a smirk. "An official one, in fact. I'm helping your father establish an economic recovery plan. Purely business."
Lila tilted her head. "And how long does this 'business trip' last?"
"As long as necessary."
Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. A quiet understanding. Gratitude. Longing, perhaps, though neither voiced it.
That night, Adrian wrote a formal declaration to be delivered to the capital—detailing the supposed joint initiative between House Blackwood and House Hart. He made sure to use language that echoed the Crown's priorities: economic stability, loyalty, and recovery.
The next morning, it would be sent to the court, where the gossipmongers would devour it—and, hopefully, begin to spin a new narrative.
One that painted Lila not as a scandalous young woman clinging to a noble's favor—but as a key figure in regional reform. A brave, loyal lady of the realm. Too useful, too public, and too well-connected to be cast aside.
And Adrian? He would make sure no one forgot who stood by her side.